


Nothing but the shield

by the_crown_jules



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Movie Night, Banter, Domestic Avengers, Everyone has a dirty mind, Fluff and Smut, Food shenanigans, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Meddling, Minor Pepper Potts/Natasha Romanov, Oral Sex, POV Steve Rogers, Straight-laced Steve has a rough side, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Top Steve Rogers, tony has a plan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:47:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26361397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_crown_jules/pseuds/the_crown_jules
Summary: Tony Stark has a hypothesis that he was very wrong about Captain America. He had put him in the boy scout box without a second thought, which, really, what a shame because look at the guy. In his defense, Captain America is Steve. Steve, who blushes every time their group movie night pick has a scene that is remotely steamy, and as far as Tony can remember has never come back from a date after 9pm. Steve, who wears shirts so tight they look like they've been painted on with all the confidence in the world but as soon as someone chats him up becomes all "aw shucks ma'am". Steve, who sat with his face in his hands in mortification the entire time Nat and Sam gave that impromptu lecture on sex involving all the vegetables from the kitchen. Well. Admittedly that was pretty detailed. Steve...who apparently prefers men. Who likes giving orders, and gets hot under the collar when Tony doesn't follow them. Who grins in a very particular way when he knocks Tony flat on his back during training. Who spilled coffee on himself that time Tony came into the kitchen shirtless. Who Tony is now almost certain wants to fuck him senseless on every available surface in every conceivable position. He just needs more data.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 16
Kudos: 314





	Nothing but the shield

**Author's Note:**

> The characters lovingly re-created here are the property of Marvel and Disney. This is my first time writing them, which really revealed how unique and well-written they are in the films — trying to render their fluffy sides was a real challenge and a total joy and I hope they feel at least recognizable as themselves!
> 
> Where is this in the Avengers timeline? Um. Well? One of my favorite scenes in the Avengers movies is at the beginning of Age of Ultron when it's just the team left hanging out in Avengers Tower after a party, laughing over trying to pick up Thor's hammer. It shows a warmth and camaraderie that they rarely get a break to experience with each other and I want to imagine that in the time between Avengers and Ultron they did have more times like that, even if we didn't see them. So I tried to create one of those times here in a way that would sort of maybe actually fit within canon...but then I put Sam in because I like him as a friend for Steve and doing that screwed the timelines all up so this is officially its own little imaginary thing for some indulgent warm fluff with my two kings of sexual tension.

Steve wasn't sure which was worse: trying to date in the modern world, or having to hear his friends' opinions about him trying to date in the modern world. He would leave the tower to comments like "Try to stay out past 9 this time," typically from Tony, or "Do you really only have one date outfit," also usually from Tony, or "Don't break anything I can't afford. Nevermind, you're good," which, naturally...Tony. Come to think of it, Tony really seemed to be carrying the lion's share of the commentary. Everyone else just kind of smiled supportively, and sometimes Banner would give him an awkward thumbs-up. Steve paused briefly as he ran a comb through his already smooth hair. Was it really just Tony who was giving him a hard time? Warmth fizzled through his blood as he remembered the way Tony had looked him up and down before delivering his outfit comment with a twist of humor in his lips that didn't really reach whatever more complex expression Steve saw in his eyes. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when he remembered a pre-date evening a couple of months ago when Sam had started to explain how sex worked and Natasha had gone to the kitchen for some vegetables to assist and the whole thing had gone off the rails from there. Good. _Several_ of his friends were invasive assholes who made him blush. That was comforting.

...

When he walked through their shared lounge area on the way to the garage elevator, Barton was dumping a shocking amount of popcorn into several giant bowls in the bar and Pepper was taking as many beers as she could carry into the sprawling living room — more like an arena of sleek white sofas. Although she and Tony had decided a more professional relationship suited them better, she still had a lot of affection for their band of misfits, especially Natasha, and was a reasonably regular presence at Avengers Tower. But if Pepper was here, and the popcorn was out, that meant it was...

"You're awfully dressed up for movie night, Cap," said Tony as he wandered into the living room, looking as casual as he ever did — barefoot in yoga pants and a henley with the sleeves rolled up, skin tan, cords of muscle visible in his forearms as he took a swig from a beer, throat flexing as he swallowed... Steve grimaced, both to banish that unproductive train of thought and in regret at the timing of his date. A date he wasn't even sure if he wanted to go on. Not when being around Tony was an option, even if _date with Tony_ wasn't an option.

"I'm going to cancel," he said. "I can't believe I double booked movie night."

A chorus of protests rose from the living room.

"Listen to this," said Sam, craning his neck to look at Steve over the back of the sofa. "The most eligible bachelor in the country-"

"Excuse you!" said Tony indignantly. Everyone ignored him.

"Wants to put off a chance at love to watch, what is it this week, Thor?"

"Temple of Doom!" Thor boomed enthusiastically. "A worthy title."

"...and Last Crusade," added Tony. "As a very necessary palate cleanser."

"Temple of Doom." said Sam, almost wincing at the words. "Trust me, man, Spielberg himself would tell you to go."

Steve experienced a brief flash of pride that he actually knew who that was.

"What matters, Steve," said Natasha gently, "is that we will be here, and so will movie night. Now stop making excuses and go have a good time."

Steve sighed. He wasn't sure if they were right, but he was sure that canceling the date so late felt impolite and it wouldn't seem right to him. Perhaps old-fashioned but, well, he was. _Except when he wasn't_ , he thought, catching a glimpse of Tony. Their eyes met so briefly, but he had apparently caught Tony's attention long enough for Tony to quip at his retreating back:

"Don't have too good a time, Cap, if you're not back by 9, I'll have to come save you from possible sex."

...

He was back by 9. It was so embarrassing that he considered just going to a bar by himself instead of facing the inevitable onslaught of ribbing, but...he thought of his motley group of friends throwing popcorn at the screen and having too many beers on the one night a week they really let themselves loose and the image of it filled his chest with a warmth that practically drew him back to the tower. And after an extremely awkward date with someone who had been so clearly awestruck by him, subjecting himself to a barrage of good natured definitely-not-hero-worship from his team sounded strangely cathartic. He was just glad he had learned to suggest drinks instead of dinner so his escape could be quick if he needed it to be. He always needed it to be. How do you get to know someone if you're a superhero to them?

Besides. If he had come back later they would still have given him endless grief, just on a different subject. Listening to Tony talk about sex that much might wreck him, or worse, make him finally try to wreck Tony. Speaking of...

"The Captain is aboard!" Tony's voice cut through the chorus of others greeting him as he stepped out of the elevator and directly in to movie night. Even after several months of it, they still used the random standing screen that Barton had rolled in one day, although Tony had taken one look at the plug-in projector, picked it up, and walked out of the room. They never saw it again, and watched their movies on some fancy built-in system. Right now, the screen is paused on the inside of a desert cave and a boy spying on a group of men who look like they might be robbers.

"But not riding the high seas in the way we all hoped," Tony added, scooting over to make room on the couch and patting the spot next to him. Steve walked over to the bar instead, taking off his jacket as he pulled a beer out of the fridge. They did basically nothing for him but there was a phantom _army days_ kind of comfort in having one in his hand. He leaned against the bar and raised the beer in salute to his obnoxious team.

"You know I'm not a sea captain, right?" he replied, lips quirking in amusement in spite of himself, and in how many times they had had exchanges related to every conceivable type of captain.

"It just makes for such nice _wet_ metaphors," said Tony. He was across the room but Steve could imagine that he could still see the flecks of caramel gold in those dark brown eyes. Distracting, distracting... "Maybe you should consider it though, I think you could really make a hook work."

"Not a feature of sea captains."

"On Asgard, sea captains use a hook the size of three men when they seek the Midgard Serpent in the Sea of Space," Thor chimed in.

"See?" Tony was triumphant. "The more you know." Thor lifted his personal flagon in approval.

"I'm just trying to use references you'll understand, old man," Tony finished. "Speaking of old, sure we aren't past your bedtime here?" Steve sighed. Let the jibes begin. Everyone settled more comfortably in to the squashy cushions and blankets that softened the otherwise minimalist space, adjusting the angles of their bodies to better observe and join in the sparring.

"What was wrong this time? Did you see an ankle? A flash of collarbone? Was it all just too much for your boy scout modesty?"

Barton choked on a piece of popcorn, and Thor almost flattened him with a pat on the back.

"Pretty sure you're barking up the wrong tree, there, Tony," Barton managed to wheeze out.

Tony was warming to his topic and ignored him.

"Come on, Cap, what would really be so bad about having a nice lady offer to shine your shield? Unless... did she want you wearing nothing _but_ your shield?"

"Anyone else feel like Tony has given this a surprising amount of thought?" Banner said to no one in particular.

Steve registered briefly that he thought Banner may have a point, but responded to Tony anyway. He was right, in a sense.

"Ignoring that image, Tony," said Steve. "Basically, yeah. I thought he was interested in Steve but he only wanted the Captain."

Pepper looked appropriately sympathetic. "Don't worry about being treated like the Captain here, you're just Steve to us," she said.

"Yeah," added Barton. " _Sad_ Steve who missed out on Temple of Doom."

"It was gross," said Natasha.

"You of all people?" Barton laughed.

"I would observe it a second time," said Thor.

As they chattered on, Tony's mouth had dropped open slightly.

"Wait, _he_?" Tony sputtered at last. He looked around the room, apparently realizing that no one else was registering the slightest bit of surprise. His eyes settled on Natasha. "Nat! You explained the wrong kind of sex!"

"If you think back to our award-worthy vegetable-based lecture," said Natasha, arching an eyebrow, "I think you'll recall that we explained _all_ kinds of sex." Steve blushed heavily at this but still smirked at the fact that Tony had apparently been rendered silent in shock. A little frisson of worry went through him briefly at realizing Tony didn't know he liked men, but it passed just as quickly. The only team member who he would think of as remotely traditional was, well, himself. Still, it was interesting to realize that Tony didn't know. He had never explicitly come out to the team, everyone just seemed to notice/get it/take it for granted in their own ways. Apparently not everyone.

"No time like the present apparently to say that I mostly prefer men," Steve said neutrally. Thor thumped his flagon approvingly. "I guess there are some non-geniuses on the team who hadn't noticed." If he was hoping to get a rise out of Tony, he hoped in vain.

"So HE wanted you to wear nothing but your shield?"

He did so want to get a rise out of Tony. He was always pushing his buttons and Steve could never manage to push back. Oh, all the ways he wanted to push him back. Mostly against furniture. Or walls. A tree would do. Or...

He put his beer down decisively. "I'd rather talk about someone I _do_ want to have sex with," he said, rolling up his sleeves as he began to walk over to the group, gaze locked on Tony, who was looking a little glassy-eyed. This yielded a whoop from someone and a couple of comments pointing out that other people were present. He paused briefly as if he were heading for the empty seat next to Tony and then sat down next to Natasha instead.

"Indiana Jones, obviously," he said, looking around with a lopsided grin. Sam threw popcorn at him. "Sounds like we're on to Last Crusade?"

While everyone chimed in with explanations, Tony was silent, looking at Steve appraisingly. Steve noticed this change in energy with a corner of his attention and was a little unnerved, but tried not to let it throw him off balance. He spent enough time already with Tony throwing him off balance.

Pepper warned Steve in a serious tone that the movie would contain kissing, and he shook his head ruefully. "Pepper, they got to you too?"

This seemed to jolt Tony out of his reverie. He leaned forward, arms braced on his knees, eyes glinting with amusement.

" _So_ you like a man with a whip, then?"

"Think he likes to be the man with the whip," said Banner under his breath. Steve would have to do something about this direction of speculation.

"Pep's right about those kissing scenes, pretty steamy for an old timer, maybe I should get a blindfold to protect your sensibilities." Tony seemed to be trying out a new spin on his usual games. He usually flirted with Steve the same he did with everyone else, but...would Tony treat him differently now that he knew he liked men? _Would that necessarily be a bad thing?_

"Put one him and see what happens," Barton suggested.

" _Some of us_ would like to see what happens _in the movie_ ," Steve ground out. Someone granted him mercy and pressed play. He mostly got lost in the movie, because honestly he really did love movie night. They had gotten so _good_. But there was a part of him that was aware that Tony was not watching the movie as much as he was watching Steve. Being the focus of a mind that sharp couldn't be good. _Or it could be very good._ Some parts of his body liked that idea and he told them to shut up.

...

Tony was very particular about how he took his coffee. When he started the day in his workshop, DUM-E made it (usually) according to his specifications. But on weekends, as on this Saturday morning, he undertook the ritual himself. Steve liked sitting at the counter in the bright, tidy kitchen and reading the paper while surreptitiously watching the precise way Tony tamped the grounds and frothed the milk. There was so much about Tony that was fast-moving, a dozen ideas in the blink of an eye, so there was something fascinating about watching him perform these measured, patient steps. Even as his hands were steady, though, Tony still radiated the energy that was busy powering his whirring brain, already up and running ahead of them all. The smell of coffee drifted over their companionable silence. They rarely talked, because Tony rarely talked in the morning. It derailed those early ideas. But Steve saw Tony take down two wide flat mugs, a silent acknowledgement that Steve was there and would be getting coffee too. At some point whoever else was staying in the tower would wander in to poke around for breakfast and caffeine, drawn by the sound of the coffee grinder like a distant rooster crowing. But Steve was usually the only one around early enough, especially post-movie night, to get a Tony-made special.

A mug slid into his peripheral vision and Steve frowned. It wasn't one of their usual cappuccino mugs but something enormous. It practically looked like a bowl of hot chocolate. He folded his newspaper down to find Tony looking directly at him across the counter. He jumped slightly in spite of himself at the unexpected proximity. Tony smirked.

"Thought we could try something a little more fun today," Tony said, gesturing at his own enormous mug with one hand. The other was behind his back. Ominous. "Just to remind you, fun is something that many people have when they unclench."

"If this is going to be a mini marshmallow situation, I think Banner ate all of them," said Steve with a smile, ignoring the opening salvo and trying to recover his composure. It was absurd how he could keep a cool head when explosions were going off around him but one surprise from Tony sent him spinning.

"Yeah I already came up empty-handed on those. Just out of curiosity, why did you go straight to mini marshmallows?"

"They're fun?"

Tony blinked. "Sure Cap. Luckily, I found..." Tony took his hand from behind his back to reveal a canister of something. "A quick search revealed that this was invented post-Capsicle in 1948 which means that you have perhaps up to this point been deprived of one of life's great indulgences."

"Well you are _the_ expert on indulgences," Steve said drily, trying to hide his interest. He wondered if each new thing _post-Capiscle,_ as Tony said, would ever stop being interesting to him. He kind of hoped not.

Tony shook the canister and then pressed on the top, covering his giant mug of coffee with a layer of fluffy whipped cream, and Steve laughed. A new small wonder.

Then Tony tipped his head back, raised the canister, and filled his open mouth directly with a considerable quantity of whipped cream. Steve stopped laughing with a choked-off sound. Tony looked at him, swallowed, and darted the tip of his tongue out to catch some cream left over on the side of his mouth.

Steve had no thoughts in his brain. None. Completely gone. He knew he must just be staring at Tony but he was unable to do anything about it. His blood was quickly on its way to power a different part of his anatomy, except for the reserves that he knew were making his cheeks turn scarlet.

"Your turn," said Tony, holding out the can and keeping eye contact with Steve. Steve reached for it numbly, but Tony just quirked an eyebrow.

"I've got it," Steve finally managed in a strangled voice, snatching the can. He tried to mimic Tony's actions and after a couple of fizzing tries covered his coffee in a generous layer of, let's be honest, frosting. As he went to put the can down on the counter, Tony caught his wrist. The feeling of contact jolted through him and straight to his burgeoning erection, fortunately hidden by the counter. He was sure Tony must be able to feel his pulse pounding, pounding in his wrist. Pounding. What he wouldn't give to pound the man in front of him. To believe that there could actually be something there and that Tony wasn't just being Tony right now, riling Steve up for his own amusement. His breath was tangled in his thoughts.

"Come on, Cap," Tony said in a low voice. "Live a little. Bottoms up." He released Steve's wrist so that Steve ostensibly could spray whipped cream into his own mouth. Steve remained frozen, recovering from the physical contact. But there was nowhere to escape from Tony's focused, inscrutable gaze.

After a few seconds of silent staring, Tony said, "Well. _I_ wouldn't say no to another round." And he opened his mouth.

Steve unfurled the newspaper again between them, blocking Tony from view.

...

Coffee was clearly no longer safe, so on Sunday Steve did a later workout and wandered into the kitchen when he knew Tony would be long gone, off to tinker on the personal projects he favored on the weekends. Steve briefly reflected that it was nice to know so much about someone and their rhythms, to have spent enough time together to have picked up on the little things others didn't know. Did the rest of the team know Tony's rhythms and quirks? Steve dismissed the thought immediately. Of course they did. They all spent time around each other; there was nothing unique about him and Tony.

Tony. Who was still very much in the kitchen. Chatting away with Nat and Pepper. He wasn't used to seeing Pepper in the morning, and Steve briefly wondered if there was something going on there. But only briefly, because he also wasn't used to Tony talking in the morning, and...making pancakes? What?

"Cap you're just in time," Tony said as he entered. "I made you a shield pancake." He held out a plate.

"It's just a circle," Steve said.

"Use your imagination."

"My pancake was a moon," said Pepper, loading her fork. "We're undecided between hubcap and frisbee for Nat."

Steve accepted his plate warily and sat down at the counter, scanning for whipped cream. None in sight.

"Uh, thanks Tony. This looks...good." It did, actually. Were those chocolate chips? "What's the occasion?"

"Can't a superhero do something nice for his superhero friends?" Tony flipped another pancake on the griddle expertly as Pepper snorted.

"Okay fine, we are celebrating...the fact that Pep has moved on to someone who is nearly as amazing as I am?"

Nat toasted the room with a piece of pancake and kissed Pepper on the cheek. "I suppose that's the highest praise I can expect."

"That's very generous of you, Tony, but would we usually call you generous?" The skepticism in Pepper's voice was balanced out with obvious affection.

"Cap, you need more breakfast," said Tony, loading his current round of pancakes onto a plate and approaching with a syrup dispenser. Steve nearly squawked in protest as Tony leaned over, added another pancake to Steve's plate and then poured syrup over the lot. He caught a stray drop on his finger and then looked directly into Steve's eyes as he put the finger into his mouth and sucked the syrup off. "Big man like you must get _hungry_ ," he said. Steve wasn't sure whether he wanted to disappear into the floor forever or pour maple syrup on other parts of Tony's body and go from there. He was spared the decision when Tony sauntered back to his pancake station as if nothing had happened.

"Feel like we missed something, Nat?" whispered Pepper.

"Shh, I'm watching," said Natasha.

...

On Monday, Steve was walking down the hall and happened to glance out at the rooftop sport court to see Tony pause in his game of basketball with Sam. It wasn't all that hot outside, but it was sunny, so they were both shirtless, beautiful brown and golden in the sun. Tony was taking a water break, and after swallowing several mouthfuls emptied the bottle over his head. The droplets cascaded over his bare chest in tiny rivers that caught the blue glow of the arc reactor, sending scattered glimmering highlights along his muscles. Maybe it was hotter out than Steve thought. He knew he felt hotter all of a sudden...

On Tuesday, JARVIS called Steve to assist with an apparent emergency in the lab in which Tony had been testing out the iron man gauntlets and gotten them locked together behind his back. Tony was disheveled and sweaty in a black tank top, and the position of his arms made his muscles flex as he pulled against the restraints. As Steve tried to unlock the gauntlets, he also had to try to position himself so that his erection didn't brush against Tony's ass. When he struggled with the task, Tony said in a consoling tone, "Don't worry that you're out of practice, Cap. I bet handcuffs just aren't necessary when you're really, really strong." This did not help with his erection.

On Wednesday, Steve's motorcycle wouldn't start. The natural person to help him was Tony, of course, but he hesitated to ask. Their interactions over the last several days had left him frayed and confused and haunted by dreams that drove him awake with his hand on his cock like a teenager. Tony, blindfolded, Steve deep in his throat, hands fisted in that dark hair, or wrapping around his neck. Ass in the air over the kitchen counter as Steve filled him over and over, bruising and huge and relentless. Steve knew Tony was stoking these fires but he didn't know why and eventually he'd have to ask and then he'd have to hear that it was all just for laughs and... "JARVIS tells me that without my help you're going to destroy your beloved death machine." Tony had apparently been alerted to Steve's plight anyway. "You should have called me sooner," Tony added as he sauntered up, brushing past Steve on his way to lovingly tend the injured motorcycle. "I'll always come for you." This last was said over his shoulder in nearly a purr. Tony proceeded to strip off his jacket more slowly than was strictly necessary and Steve left him to it.

...

On Thursday, Steve was working in one of the large glass-and-steel tower offices when Tony wandered in with a laptop. He nodded at Steve and then quietly settled a few feet away at the same table, put on a pair of huge headphones, and seemingly immersed himself in work. Steve looked at him suspiciously for a minute, no longer trusting any situation where the two of them were alone. Or even really the situations where they weren't. Tony was after him for, for...Steve had no idea. He resumed his review of combat scenarios, drawing up training plans for the team members alone and in combination. After about 30 minutes had passed with no interaction, Steve was just beginning to lower his guard when Tony took his headphones off.

"Hey Cap, do you have a minute? I could actually use your input on this project."

"Whatever I can do for the team," Steve said, carefully professional.

"Great, good sport. I'm working on some ideas around team dynamics and just need to get your thoughts on a few questions." Steve didn't offer a reply, and Tony didn't wait for one.

"Do you think of your team differently during training versus in combat?"

Steve thought for a minute. It was actually an interesting question. "I think the outward versus inward focus actually changes the dynamics a lot. In combat we're more likely to be working together, and I'm scanning for threats in a different way. In training we're more likely to be testing each other, and there's room for almost...fun, which isn't part of high risk situations." Tony nodded, tapping away and moving things invisible to Steve around on his screen.

"Great. Do you feel like your team knows you well?"

"Isn't that a question my team should answer?"

"No," said Tony patiently. "That would be 'do you feel you know your Captain well,' which recently I would say hard maybe. This is about your perception of the team's knowledge of _you_."

This made Steve frown. _Hard maybe?_

“I’d like to think so, but I have a different type of relationship with each team member. I guess I’d say Nat knows me better than anyone else, but do you really think that’s relevant for doing our jobs?” Tony pursed his lips and moved on.

"Do you feel like _Captain_ and _Steve_ are different aspects of yourself? Like, a Steve in the streets, Captain in the sheets kind of situation? Or vice versa?"

“I beg your pardon?"

"That's fine we'll skip that one. How does giving orders make you feel?"

"Tony..."

"You _are_ the team leader, it's reasonable to try to capture your feelings about...leadership."

Steve sighed. "Well, first of all being leader is not about giving orders, it's about responsibility and accountability and having someone to make the hard calls." Tony looked at him expectantly, hands poised over the keyboard.

"You're not going to write that down? I thought that was really good."

"It didn't answer the question," said Tony.

“Okay, fine. Giving orders makes me feel like...I see all the moving parts well enough to describe them. And…I’m not going to pretend I don’t like to be in control,” he finished a little grudgingly.

"We don’t have to pretend,” said Tony under his breath, before looking up with a dangerous glint in his eye. “How do you think receiving orders makes _me_ feel?"

"Okay Tony, what are you doing." He didn't phrase it like a question.

"You're going to have to be more specific, I'm usually doing a lot of things"

Steve just glared.

"I have a hypothesis, and I am collecting data to see if there is evidence to support it," Tony said as if it was the least worrisome thing in the world.

"If I'm going to be part of an experiment, don't I get the chance to consent?" said Steve, alarmed.

"If we get that far in the experiment, I promise the consent will be _enthusiastic_ ," said Tony, grinning wolfishly and patting Steve on the arm. "Now be a good subject and answer my questions."

"You can keep asking, we'll see about answers," Steve replied, flustered by the brief physical contact. He was so far gone over Tony it was almost depressing.

“Do you think of any of your teammates outside a professional capacity?”

“Of course,” said Steve. “You're my friends.”

Tony tutted. “I’ll be more specific. Do you ever think about any of your teammates perhaps on their knees in front of you with their mouth-”

"Are you trying to seduce me, Tony?”

“If it’s working.” Tony wasn’t pretending to take notes anymore.

“Honestly it feels more like harassment. Relentless, daily harassment.”

“Hey I had nothing to do with the gauntlets,” said Tony. “OR the motorcycle. I’m just working with the situations I find.”

“Sure you are, Tony. What about the basketball game?”

“What _about_ the basketball game?” Tony’s eyes were alight with interest and he wheeled his chair towards Steve, who stood up to back away. Tony quickly rose and followed.

"I’m done with your questions."

"So shut me up, Cap." Tony looked at him with challenge in his eyes, an intensity there that made Steve want to give in to every feral instinct screaming in his blood to take this man and plunder him. He clenched his fists, crushing a pen into flatness. Tony was still walking towards him. Steve was still backing up, but his aim had been off; rather than the door frame behind him, his back was against the wall.

“Jesus, Tony,” he practically growled, squeezing his eyes shut to keep control. Nights, days, years of frustration and want were crackling through his body, breaking in his voice. When he opened his eyes, it was to find Tony inches away, thrumming with intensity. Tony, that bright shining beacon of vitality and sex and charm and nerdiness and a million quiet moments of hidden humanity. He pushed and pulled on Steve and made him get out of his own head. If only Steve could get out of his own _way_.

“Shut me up, Steve,” Tony whispered across the scant space between them, and Steve finally snapped. He lunged for Tony, pivoting and pushing him against the wall, pressing their bodies together as their lips finally met. Steve kissed him fiercely and deeply, but with intention, caressing Tony’s mouth open under his and slowly taking him apart, sliding his tongue inside languidly as he ran his hands down the hard muscles of Tony’s body and thrilling at the moan of need he heard and felt through the kiss. He knew that Tony would be able to feel his own need plainly; his cock, hard and full, was pressing against Tony's hip. It was thrilling to grind against him instead of trying to hide his desire, the all-consuming lust he felt for the man now pressing his own stiff length back against him. Tony kissed him back fervently, battling for control as if it was any question who would win this contest. Steve smiled slightly against his mouth and used one huge hand to pin both of Tony’s firmly against the wall above his head. He trailed kisses along Tony’s jaw, marveling at the feeling of the stubble against his lips, and buried his face in the soft crook of Tony’s neck, biting and sucking as Tony writhed in his firm grasp.

“Steve…God…” Tony cut off into an incomprehensible sound as Steve shifted so their cocks pressed together through their clothes and canted his hips, slowly rubbing against Tony for the most delicious, most unbearable build of pleasure. Tony’s wrists pressed more insistently against his grasp and he took it correctly as a cue that he wanted to be freed. Immediately Steve felt those strong, deft hands roaming his body, squeezing, caressing, working their way quickly to his belt, and then tugging to flip them so Steve slammed into the wall. The remaining breath was pulled from him by Tony’s lips back on his, sucking lightly on his lower lip in a way that made him see sparks as Tony’s hands worked his buckle. And then Tony's lips were on his neck, his collarbone, his chest, his stomach, and as Tony slid down his body to his knees before him, Steve’s brain practically dissociated from what was about to happen.

Tony looked up at him as he pressed his lips along the hard outline of Steve’s erection, pulling a sound from Steve that was almost like a sob. His hands followed, unbuckling, unzipping, pulling, until Steve’s cock stood proud before him and Tony paused with something on his face like reverence. Steve let out a breathy shaky laugh and felt a little bloom of pride at Tony’s appreciation. He knew he was big. Big enough to hurt. Big enough to choke. Tony’s hand lightly worked the base, barely closing over his girth, and when the tip disappeared between Tony’s lips and and his eyes fluttered closed, Steve's head fell back against the wall with a thud. Tony was working more and more of him into his clever mouth, and Steve's eyes widened in shock at the hot, tight warmth of Tony’s throat. His hands fisted in Tony’s hair almost without his awareness, eliciting a moan of pleasure from the man swallowing his cock. The sight of Tony stretched around his shaft was bringing him close to the breaking point and his hips bucked slightly, making Tony choke and the corners of his eyes water. Worried he was going to hurt him, Steve tried to pull back, but Tony’s hands came up to grasp his hips firmly and he continued to devour him, bobbing steadily up and down, so deep, so deep and tight, he—

“Tony, I’m going to—” Tony’s hands remained determined on his hips and he looked up at Steve as he exploded with blinding pleasure. He pumped his release into that beautiful mouth and thought he might never stop coming at the sight of Tony swallowing around him. When Steve shuddered into stillness, Tony released him, still looking up into Steve’s sated face, expression something like triumph. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Tony stood shakily and ran his hands admiringly along the planes of Steve’s body. 

“Well I’ve never had an experiment end _that_ way before,” said Tony with a grin. As Steve’s mind floated back into his body he surveilled the moment with a growing sense of alarm. He had crossed a line. Several lines. Several big, important lines. Lines he had created to protect himself from the experience of loving a man who didn’t love him back. Not to mention the professional lines, but he had always know that was secondary. 

And now every time he saw Tony he would feel their tangled tongues, see Tony’s eyes flutter shut as Steve pushed his cock down his throat, not as a dream but as a memory, and for Tony...his experiment had _ended_. He knew he was staring at Tony as if at a ghost, but that’s what he might as well be. The ghost of imaginary relationships.

“Tony…” he gasped out. _Was he going to cry? He actually might cry._ “I’m sorry,” he finished. And he fled.

…

Two hours later, Tony showed up at Steve's door shirtless and wet with only a towel wrapped around his waist claiming there was something wrong with the hot water in his shower and asking if he could finish in Steve's. His exact words were actually, "give my body what it needs in your hot, steamy shower." Steve took in that expanse of wet chest, noticing that the little dancing arc reactor highlights he'd noticed from a distance on Monday were mesmerizing up close, and ran a hand down his face in frustration.

"Really, Tony?" he said, voice muffled by his hand.

"Of course not,” Tony practically rolled his eyes. “But I am running out of ways to throw myself at you so I decided to get really, really obvious since apparently swallowing your cock was not obvious enough.”

“Say it louder, why don’t you,” Steve hissed, reaching out and hauling Tony into his room. This seemed to meet with Tony’s approval, and he pressed against Steve, who remained rigid, back to the wall, a hollow reflection of their earlier activities.

Tony pulled back. “Okay something got lost in translation here. I have to say, congratulations, because it is very rare that I am confused and I’ve really got nothing here.”

"What do you want with me?" Steve's voice was a low rumble.

"I literally can't think of a way to make it any clearer," said Tony, a little breathless in his apparent frustration.

"There are other showers in the building," said Steve, gaze averted from the half-naked man he was dying to reach out and touch. To hold. To ravish, and to slowly make love to.

"I thought this one might come with you in it," said Tony, running a hand up Steve's chest. Steve pushed off the wall in frustration, stalking to the safety of the other side of the room.

"Okay, would it be clearer why I'm here if I take the towel _off_?"

"What do you want with me, Tony,” Steve asked the far wall.

"Anything? Everything? It's all on the table. Could _include_ the table. Come on Cap, it is very clear to both of us that this isn't one-sided."

A flash of anger kindled, and Steve finally turned to face him. "That's the problem, Tony. It _is_ one-sided. I have wanted you for years, okay? And not just for...for sex. You are…you are…the reason all my dates end at 9pm. Because no one will ever, remotely, possibly compare to you. You are _it_ for me, Tony Stark. And you’ve been interested in me for what, less than a week? It’s not fair to either of us.”

Tony smiled a little ruefully and crossed to sit on the end of the bed. His towel rode up. Steve tried to ignore the sudden expanse of firm thigh. “Well I have to say it really sucks to know we could have been fucking for years and we’re only getting to it now. Because there is no one I have met in the literal universe that gets me going like you do, Steve Rogers, and you are not getting out of this because of a misunderstanding.”

Steve couldn’t be hearing this properly. That the only person he wanted only wanted him. And that the person he wanted was someone who described years of what he had thought was unrequited love as _a misunderstanding_. “A…misunder—"

“I just made some very big, very wrong assumptions about what gets _you_ going. For which I clearly deserve to be punished.”

Steve was really, truly dumbstruck.

“Sexually. To be clear," Tony added. "I bet those big hands could make my ass nice and rosy.” At Steve’s continued silence, Tony waved in his direction. “Hey, I thought you were supposed to shut _me_ up, not the other way around.”

“Tony,” Steve gasped in disbelief. “You are _terrible_ at this.”

The corner of Tony’s mouth quirked up in a half smile. “Irredeemably.”

But his face turned serious, perhaps sensing with atypical prescience that for Steve this moment needed to be sealed with something more.

“You asked me what I want with you. I answered you honestly.”

“Something including the table?”

“Everything. I said everything, Steve.”

Everything.

“Since I need to be very clear, I don’t mean temporarily. And I can personally guarantee that ‘everything’ will be highly creative, extremely frustrating, and probably only physically uncomfortable a maximum of 30% of the time.”

“Highly creative?” Steve was smiling now, approaching the bed and a beaming Tony.

“Come finish my shower with me and find out.”

“Your _fake_ shower?” Tony leaned back on his elbows as Steve straddled him, reaching for his towel. “Not a chance. I hear you’re due for a punishment.”

…

On Friday night, they walked in to movie night holding hands and you would have thought they had set off a small explosion. Steve sighed but couldn’t help but grin broadly. His team was always going to give him a hard time and it made a nice change for it to be over, well, his dreams coming true basically. Tony being Tony, he stopped walking to spread his arms wide, hands out, head thrown back, a victor basking in glory. If he had wanted a quiet relationship Steve would have had to bet on a different horse. 

Speaking of betting… it was obvious that after the initial furor there was quite a bit of money changing hands. As Steve headed behind the bar to fix drinks for both of them, still kind of dazed that they were a _them,_ Tony surveilled the activities of their team with interest. 

“Longest I’ve ever had to wait for 50 bucks,” Banner could be heard saying.

“I don’t think you should get any bucks after the stunt you pulled,” quipped Barton. “Cheaters are disqualified.”

“That would disqualify half of us,” Sam protested as he counted a wad of bills from Thor. “And for what I pulled off you should be paying me _extra.”_

“Why Cap it would appear there has been some interference on the play,” said Tony mildly as they walked towards the sofas. Natasha scooted over to make room for them and Steve sat down next to her.

“Oh we only need one spot, Nat,” said Tony. “I’m going to sit on the lap of my enormous smoldering boyfriend.” As he shimmied his ass showily back across Steve’s lap, Steve buried his face in Tony’s back both to hide his roaring blush and to summon the strength to tamp down his body’s immediate response to Tony’s ass on his lap. 

“I’m surprised you can sit at all,” said Barton with amusement, and Steve just decided he’d probably spend the rest of the evening with his face hidden in Tony’s shoulders.

He felt the sofa shift and looked over to see Nat leaning forward to talk to Tony. She spotted his attention and wagged her finger, “Never you mind, Steve, strictly business. So Tony, did-“

The rest of her sentence was cut off as she whispered whatever she was going to ask directly into Tony’s ear. Steve could see Tony grin and nod affirmatively, and Nat held out her hand into the air presumably for others to put money into. “Really!” she said with interest. “And-“ more whispering. Tony’s eyes widened and he coughed slightly in alarm as he said, “Uh. Not yet?” Steve poked his head out from behind Tony to look at the others questioningly. 

“Nat’s bets were very…specific,” said Barton.

“ _Very_ specific,” said Sam, with a little shudder. “I will never get some of those images out of my brain.”

Seemingly satisfied with the quality of her information, Natasha settled back on the sofa and put her arm around Pepper. 

“I thought you were my friend,” Steve whispered at her.

“Friends help friends land their dream guy, Steve,” she whispered back.

“Yes speaking of helping,” Tony said to the room at large. “Anyone want to share with the class how I ended up handcuffed together by the Iron Man gauntlets?”

“That was very funny,” said Thor. “I have watched it many times since.” 

Tony sat up very straight and then looked at the ceiling. “ _JARVIS?”_

“Good evening, sir. How may I assist you?” the crisp reply filtered through the air.

“Do I need to remind you that you answer to me?”

“No sir, you have full command over the JARVIS system.”

“Care to tell me how these delinquents have been joy-riding then?” Tony was indignant — not at the outcome, Steve knew, as he reveled in the feeling of Tony sitting comfortably on top of him, but at being outsmarted.

“I am programmed to respond to the inquiries and requests of the full Avengers team, provided they do not compromise security, Sir.”

“I don't know, I would consider someone going into my lab and tampering with the Iron Man suits a _compromise of security_ , JARVIS.”

“Dr. Banner has full access to all R&D wings in Avengers Tower, Sir.” Tony pointed an accusing finger at Banner.

“I could have been killed!”

“Nahhh,” Banner said with a one-shouldered shrug. “I knew how to fix it.”

“I could have been killed!” This time Tony directed his indignation at the ceiling and, presumably, JARVIS. 

This not being a question, it received no response.

“My suit could have malfunctioned, or overheated or….” Tony clapped a hand to his arc reactor dramatically. “Treachery! Steve, I sense more treachery.”

During these exchanges, Steve had warmed from embarrassment to a sort of fond fuzziness at the whole situation. He leaned back comfortably on the sofa, taking in the prickly faux indignation of his melodramatic boyfriend, then savored that word, then savored the love of the people around them who had felt so strongly that they belonged together that they had apparently conspired to make it so. 

When he tuned back in from his blissed-out moment, Tony had apparently made the connection that Sam had asked JARVIS to turn on all of the outdoor sport court heaters ‘because he was cold.’

“JARVIS it was over 70 degrees outside, how could he possibly have been cold.”

“The Falcon simply requested that I turn on the outdoor heaters, Sir.”

“ _The Falcon??”_

“The Falcon has also requested that I refer to him as The Falcon, Sir.”

As Tony grumbled vague threats about permissions and recalibration and reprogramming into his cocktail, Natasha leaned over to Steve again.

“So have you tried it with the Iron Man suit yet?”

The room burst into renewed exclamations, mostly of protest, peppered with accusations of rigging the betting pool, and Steve scooped up a huge fistful of popcorn and threw it at her with a grin. 

“I think we’re going to start with _nothing but the shield_ ,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> For the readers who like to think about music, I listened to one single song on repeat while I wrote this story, “My Own Soul’s Warning” by The Killers.


End file.
